


like our time is running out

by midnightjuly (roadmarks)



Category: The Young Blood Chronicles (Music Video Series)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 15:44:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roadmarks/pseuds/midnightjuly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Burn everything you love, then burn the ashes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like our time is running out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magnificentbastards](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnificentbastards/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide! This is probably being jossed as we speak, but I hope you like it anyway! I'm pretty sure I've taken a few liberties with the canon, so apologies for that.
> 
> ETA: ...wow, this is _literally_ being jossed as we speak, since the eighth video just went up a few hours ago. I reworked the ending and a few minor details throughout to make everything fit with this video a little better, but a complete overhaul wasn't something I was about to attempt on Christmas Eve when the archive could go live at any moment, so apologies for anything that doesn't quite fit with the new stuff!
> 
> Spoilers for all the videos through to Death Valley (8/11).

The club is loud tonight, bass thrumming in a way that Pete used to live for, back when music was something more than a distraction he couldn't afford. Joe's got a friend with him tonight, some guy he went to high school with; Pete doesn't catch his name over the noise of the club but doesn't bother to ask, just nods hello and goes back to scanning the room.

The war's been going on for -- well, Pete actually has no idea, and no way to even begin figuring it out. It started long before he and the guys stumbled into something they shouldn't have that one night, and he's pretty sure it'll be going on long after their roles in the whole thing are done. They're not players in this game, not even pawns -- they're just doing what they can to minimize the damage.

It had been one night after a show years ago; Pete and Andy had a pretty decent side project going, and were opening for another band that night. They'd bailed, and Joe along with them, after their set, and while they were heading out to Andy's van, Pete saw a guy he knew passing by in the street. "Hey, Jason," he'd said, waving wildly when he didn't respond. Jason's eyes were flashing yellow, and he snarled at them. It was the kind of weird, messed up thing they might have laughed off later, blaming it on overactive imaginations or a Halloween prank, but once you've caught a demon's attention, it's hard to get rid of it. Jason advanced on them, flashing them a smile that had way more teeth than it used to. They would have been totally fucked that night if Sean hadn't been in the same club and saved their sorry asses. It was a crash-course introduction to this whole fucked up war, but they've learned how to protect themselves since then -- as best as they can, anyway.

Sean said he'd be in the club tonight; there's been activity in the area, and he's traced it to here. Pete searches for him, finally spotting him across the club. Sean's eyes slip to the guy in the DJ booth, then back to Pete. He nods meaningfully in the DJ's direction. Target acquired.

Now that he knows who to watch out for, he relaxes a little and takes a sip from his drink, leaning back against the wall and letting the music flow through him. It's not like it's actually safe to let his guard down -- it's not like it ever is, not really -- but for the most part, the demons don't give a shit about humans, not unless they're getting in the way (or unless they're hungry, but the less said about that, the better).

Joe's friend smiles at him. "Good music, huh?" he yell-whispers over the music.

Pete shrugs, casting his eyes back over to the DJ booth. "I've heard better."

"You, uh. You used to play in a band around here, right?"

"God, I'm never gonna live that down, am I?" It's been so long since he's heard _Hey, aren't you that guy from that band?_ that he thought people were finally starting to forget.

"You guys were good. I saw you a few times when I was out with Joe."

"Did you sneak into a bar to see us or something? You must have been, what, in middle school?"

He snorts. "Maybe. God, I don't even remember anymore. That was a lifetime ago."

Pete nods, taking a long mouthful of his beer. "Yeah. Yeah, I know the feeling."

 

*

They make their excuses just before closing time and head outside to wait. Joe's taking the front door and Andy and Sean are watching the fire exits, while Pete's got the alleyway in the back. He leans against the dumpster and waits, but nothing happens. He checks his phone a few times, but there's no SOS, and besides, he'd hear if anything went down.

Nearly fifteen minutes later, he's starting to wonder if they've made a mistake. It wouldn't be the first time Sean's intel was a little muddy. The door to the club opens and he tenses, but it's just a few last-minute revelers heading out. 

He hears the crunch of glass behind him, way too close for comfort, and realizes that the intel wasn't wrong -- the DJ was just waiting for a distraction. 

Before he can move, he's being tackled to the ground. It's Joe's friend from the club, and Pete's stomach twists -- Joe takes it so _personally_ when their friends turn out to be fighting on the other side -- but this guy looks panicked in a way that the demons never do, and Pete realizes that he's got it all wrong.

The DJ swings the knife he's carrying down wildly. Pete rolls them out of the way just in time. He springs up, getting in between the DJ and Joe's friend, and takes a knife to the shoulder for his efforts. "Find Joe," he says, not looking away. "Or Andy or Sean, find one of them and then just get out of here."

"That's sweet," the DJ says. His eyes are pure black and he's talking intelligibly, which is something, at least -- the yellow-eyed ones are the worst of all, practically feral, but the black-eyed ones are fond of playing with their prey like a cat with a mouse, so there's a chance he might be able to stall until help arrives. "I suggest you do what he says, sweetheart. We don't have any quarrel with you, just with your little friend here."

" _Go_ ," Pete says again as the demon steps forward, but then Andy's rounding the corner, a dagger in each hand, and Joe's not far behind him. Pete springs while the demon's distracted, and manages to get a decent blow in. Andy finishes the job, and then Joe's pulling them all away, running for the van just around the corner.

 

"What the _fuck_ was that," Joe's friend says as Joe practically lifts him into the back of the van, and god, Pete can't stop laughing. "Did we just _murder_ someone?" 

"Sorry," Pete says, finally managing to get his laughter under control. "What did you say your name was again?"

*

Patrick picked a hell of a night to say hi to an old friend at a club. Things can get out of control when you're at a club, sure, but he probably didn't expect to find himself covered in blood in the back of a beat-up van, trying to keep Pete from bleeding out. He's mostly getting in the way, but Pete appreciates his efforts anyway.

"You're not supposed to take a blade out yourself, we're going to want to find a doctor --" he's saying, and Pete almost rolls his eyes, pulling it out. The normal rules of first aid don't always apply when you're getting into fights with demons (and sometimes the demons' opponents, who are even deadlier and way, way more frightening -- it's the wings, Pete thinks, or maybe the dozens of eyes.) "Or you could do that, whatever," Patrick finishes.

Pete laughs, reaching for the first aid kit with his good arm. "It's fine, trust me. Here, can you open this for me?" He tosses him the bottle of holy water, and Patrick blinks at it.

"Are you kidding me?" He unscrews the cap, though, and holds it out, careful not to let any spill. Pete cleans his wound as best he can; the holy water sizzles when it hits his skin, and he grits his teeth against the burn. It fades after a few moments, and the bleeding grows sluggish. He'd be surprised if there's even a mark there in the morning.

"So, uh," Patrick says. "Does this happen a lot?" He's staring at Pete's shoulder, where a faint plume of smoke is still trailing upwards from the wound.

"Pretty much all the time, yeah," he answers.

"And that guy was..."

Pete looks at him for a long moment, considering. "You get that this is your blue pill, red pill moment, right?"

Patrick pauses, then shrugs. "I need to know."

"Good," Pete says. "'cause I'm not sure I'd actually give you the blue pill option. Like, seriously, man, you saved my life tonight and you don't even know me. You're stuck with me."

Patrick ducks his head, and -- "Oh, shit, dude, are you _blushing_? Yeah, you're never getting rid of me."

*

Patrick starts training with them next week. Joe's apprehensive about it, and Pete gets it -- it's dangerous stuff they've fallen into, and the more people they bring in, the more losses they seem to suffer. He's especially worried considering that no one's seen Sean since that night at the club, but they're all trying not to think about it; he's gone off the grid without warning before, so they're still holding out hope. Pete knows intellectually that Joe's right, that they should just keep it as the three of them at the core, with the network of allies they've made as a support. But he's also selfish as hell, and he takes to Patrick instantly in a way he rarely does to anyone -- some combination of Patrick saving him that first night and having his back even though he didn't know him, along with the fact that Patrick's just kind of awesome to get to know, when it comes down to it, and Pete doesn't really let himself get to know anyone these days.

So Patrick joins up with them, and before long he's all but moved into the shitty little apartment they use as a safe house when shit goes down, and as a rendezvous point with their contacts, and for anything that might lead to too many questions being asked from family and neighbours. After awhile, it's hard to remember that Patrick wasn't always hanging around with them, leaving passive-aggressive post-it notes about groceries on their doors and starting fights about who put weird shit into his Netflix queue. He balances them out, too, as a team; he's not a bad fighter once they get a little precision drilled into him, all raw fury and a hell of a right hook.

Not to mention how good he is at drawing demons out. The demons practically _flock_ to him, and it gets to the point where even Joe grudgingly admits that having Patrick on board is a good thing. There's no way he wouldn't have caught their eye sooner or later, and it's hard enough surviving when you've got an arsenal at your disposal and a team watching your back.

"You know," Patrick says one night while they're back in the apartment, taking a breather before they head back into the real world. Andy's off cleaning the van so that it looks a little less like it came from a crime scene, and Joe's in the shower making _himself_ look less like he came from a crime scene, so it's just the two of them sprawled on the couch, exhausted.

Pete's preoccupied at the moment -- weapons don't clean themselves, sadly, and tonight's fight was messier than usual -- and it takes him a moment to realize that Patrick's spoken. "Yeah?" he says, and then looks over when he's met with silence.

Patrick's fallen asleep, slumped face-first against Pete's arm, and Pete huffs out a laugh. He's not sure how it happened, but he's completely, absurdly fond of this guy. It's not something he's about to question, though -- sometimes you've got to take the good things as they are, especially when the bad things are the stuff of nightmares.

* 

So, things are going well. Things are way better than they could have hoped for, so of course it all has to go to shit. It starts one night when one of their contacts unexpectedly drops by. Rory's someone who Pete, Andy, and Joe knew way back when. He used to play in a couple of bands, and he was really into new age shit in those days, even had himself he convinced he was talking to angels. And hey, maybe he was, because a few years later, they started talking back.

He hasn't been the same since, and Pete trusts him about as far as he could throw him. But he's the only one they've got able to give them any intel from the non-demonic side of the war, so they're stuck with him.

"Hey," he says, eyes glazed and unfocused. "Listen, uh. There's something you should know."

Patrick sighs. Out of all of them, he's the least comfortable dealing with Rory, which Pete totally gets. There's no history there like the rest of them have with Rory; Patrick just knows him as the creepy dude who shows up every now and then to pass on messages from his supernatural bosses. He's even less thrilled this time around, too, given that Rory's shown up unannounced on Patrick's doorstep, rather than meeting them at the apartment or the club, like usual. It's always unsettling when this shit ends up too close to home, let alone _in_ your home. "Yeah, okay, we're listening."

"There's this book. It's, uh. I can't touch it, you know? Nothing celestial can, and I'm, uh. Too close to them, I guess. But you guys could."

"You want us to touch a book," Andy says, deadpan.

"I -- _they_ \-- want you to _get_ it," he says. "It's gonna end this whole thing."

Joe perks up, and Andy and Pete exchange a look. Joe wants out -- they all do, obviously, but Joe's never taken to this the same way they have, and he's been looking for their ticket out ever since they got tangled up in the war. "How?"

"Some kind of spell, I think. Magic, banishment, something like that. Celestials can't touch it, demons can't either. You get the book, you do the ritual, everything gets sent back to whichever dimension it came from."

"And it stays there?" Patrick asks, raising his eyebrows. "That sounds too good to be true. Why would the angels want that?"

"They're only fighting because they have to, man. Same as you. They just want to go home."

"Sounds nice. Where's this book supposed to be?" Pete asks.

Rory slides an envelope across the table. "The address is in here. It's up to you guys if you use it or not, but, uh. I really think you should."

"Well, we'll be sure to take your opinion into account. Thanks for stopping by," Patrick says, staring pointedly at Rory until he's out the door and it's safely bolted behind him. Patrick shudders. "God, I hate that guy. He makes my skin crawl."

"No kidding," Pete says, but he still picks up the envelope and flips it over. He's about to tear it open when Patrick grabs his wrist. "We're not seriously going to do this, are we?"

"Why wouldn't we?" Joe asks, rubbing at his face. "Come on, Patrick. We can't do this forever. We're gonna end up dead one way or another. It's a fucking miracle we've all made it this far, and you know it."

"Yeah, it's dangerous. And you know what else is dangerous? Walking into this blind when it could be a trap. And even if it's not, this? This is taking a side. We deal with them when we have to, but there are so many of them that they don't see us as a serious threat. But this is so much bigger than that, and they're going to come after us. Hell, they might already know we've got this."

"Then we're targets anyway," Andy says. "I say we do it."

"Pete," Patrick says. "Come on."

Pete shakes his head and rips the envelope open. "Sorry, Patrick. Majority rules."

"I can't believe you'd all be so fucking _stupid_ ," Patrick says, storming out of the room and slamming the door behind him. 

Pete's not really concerned, though. He and Patrick have had worse fights than this over tiny, ordinary, everyday things; there's no way Patrick's not going to be right there with them when they go.

Sure enough, when they're gearing up bright and early the next morning, Patrick's there. He looks angry as hell, but he's _there_ , and Pete grins at him. "I thought you weren't coming."

Patrick rolls his eyes. "Are we doing this or not?"

*

"Okay," Patrick says as they stare down at the table. "The magical solution to all our problems is just sitting here in a briefcase, totally unguarded, in an abandoned warehouse. Nothing about this is screaming 'trap' to anybody else?"

"Someone just open it already," Joe says, and Andy turns the dials to the combination Rory gave them. He hesitates for a moment, and they all lean forward, despite themselves. 

Light floods out. "Holy shit," Andy mutters, and Pete gasps out a wheezy laugh. When he looks over at Patrick, Patrick's smiling.

"See, Patrick? It's not _always_ a trap," Pete says, and Patrick lets out of a laugh of his own.

"So what's this ritual thing we're supposed to do?" he asks.

Andy takes the book gingerly and pages through. "We've got time to figure it out. It looks like we have to do it on a full moon."

"That's nearly a week away," Patrick says. "What do we do with it until then?"

"Keep it safe," Pete replies. "You take it, Patrick. We all split up, try to keep their attention on us and not you."

"Why me?" 

"You're the only one of us who's ever managed a spell. You can figure out this ritual shit."

"That was _one time_ , and all I managed to do was light a candle," Patrick says. "What do you guys think?"

Andy shrugs. "It's as good a plan as any." Joe nods, and Patrick sighs.

"Fine. I'll hole up in the apartment for awhile, you try to draw them elsewhere. Downtown, maybe?"

"Hold on," Pete says, and pulls a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket, securing the briefcase handle and then hooking the other cuff around Patrick's wrist. "For safekeeping."

"I'm not even going to ask why you had those," Patrick says, and Pete laughs, feeling almost giddy. This is almost over. They're going to make it.

*

Pete's never been much of an optimist, so it figures that the one time he rolls with it, it nearly gets them all killed. It _does_ get Joe killed, and his gut wrenches when he thinks about how it was all in front of them all this time -- Patrick's aversion to Rory and his messages from the angels, the way he was the only one who could ever get magic to work for him. Hell, that first night, Patrick had passed him the holy water so carefully. At the time, Pete just thought he was being cautious; now he figures Patrick was trying to avoid revealing what he really was by burning himself.

Possession is one thing -- you're not yourself, and if you happen to know a decent priest, it's easy enough to fix. But the girl, the one who'd been trying to mess with him while he was tied up in the hospital, she'd said a lot of things. Some of them lies, most likely: that's what demons _do_ , but they love it even more when they can wreck you with a truth. And she didn't seem like that good of an actor; the delight dripping from her voice had been all too real when she'd whispered into his ear, "You really didn't know? He's _always_ been one of us."

He wants to give up, but he's determined to see this this through to the end, if only to give Andy a fighting chance at surviving. He's not sure where they go from here -- and then the note's being slipped to them in the interrogation room.

The girl's familiar, which has him suspicious (although at this point, he doesn't trust _himself_ , let alone a stranger). But she's got the evidence they need, all the threads tied together in a neat little web they've never been able to assemble. And hell, it's not like they've got anything else to lose at this point.

Andy and the girl are making eyes at one another, and Pete rolls his eyes. He's too drained to interfere, even though it's obviously a terrible idea for about a million reasons, so he just nods at them and goes to take his leave. He's in the hallway when the girl stops him. "Listen," she says. "That hospital. Whatever you saw in there, whatever they said, don't let it get to you. It's a trick. Whatever you're thinking right now, it's what they _want_ you to think."

He's too tired for hope at this point. "Yeah, okay."

"No, think for a minute. How did all of this start?"

"The war? I don't even know. Unless you mean how we got involved --"

"I _mean_ , why are they after you like this?"

"They wanted something." The briefcase, the _book_ , that stupid fucking book that he's all but forgotten about, given everything that's happened since then.

"And they've got it, right? So they should just leave you alone, but instead they're trying to distract you from it. Which means they're afraid you're going to take it back."

"Which means we _can_ take it back," Pete says. There's still a few days until the full moon, after all; still time to complete the ritual. "You really think there's a chance that Joe and Patrick -- ?"

"I don't know," she says. "I wish I could say yes. I just think it's too soon to give up." "Yeah," he says after a long moment. "Yeah, okay."


End file.
